Five Stages
by sleeping-dragon96
Summary: Everyone has their own way with dealing with death.


Prompts: Grief

Additional Prompts: Skip, "I've never felt this way before" and Dawn.

(Same as with Humming Blonde, this is my first time writing characters besides from the marauders era so if Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Harry and George are completely ooc I apologise.)

"What are you doing?"

Molly Weasley looked up and through watering eyes she saw her youngest son standing by the bedroom door. Ron looked back frowning, not understanding why his mother was pulling out boxes from underneath Fred's bed.

There were two piles behind her. One was old clothes that Fred had left behind after moving out with George and the other were old toys and junk Fred had claimed had outgrown. Ron could still remember walking in around Bill's wedding to see Fred trying to use his first toy broom; all his other toys littered around the room. He had told Ron if he told anyone, he'd kill him himself. So Ron had told no one and kept the memory of Fred still aching to be a child hidden in the back of his mind.

"I thought it would be nice to give little Teddy some of Fred's old toys seeing as-" but Mrs. Weasley stopped, her voice breaking as she often did whenever she was about to mention Fred's death.

Ron frowned, "don't be stupid mum, he'd kill you if you got rid of his things."

Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to reply but decided against it. It was a large family, everyone had their way of coping. Cleaning was Mrs. Weasley's way and she returned to separating all of Fred's things; clothes for George to look through and decide what he wanted and old toys to give to Teddy.

"Mum, stop, he'll be furious," he snatched the toy broom out of his mother's hands; holding it to his chest tightly.

"Ron, Fred isn't-"

"-I know he's dead, but he'll be a ghost trust me."

Now it was Mrs. Weasley's turn to frown. "Ron he isn't-"

"Hermione and Ginny will go back in September and then you'll feel stupid for throwing his things away."

With that Ron stormed out of the room, the toy broom stick still held firmly against his chest. Mrs. Weasley stared after him, not sure whether she should allow him to get through his heartbreak of losing George by himself or with her help. With a sigh, Mrs. Weasley returned to cleaning out Fred's things. She had heard all about the five steps muggles claimed everyone went through when someone died; she just hoped Ron wouldn't remain in denial for too long.

The Golden Trio, as they had been labelled by the media, had moved in together not too long after the Battle. Harry wanted somewhere to firmly call his own and Ron had wanted to escape his house which never felt the same knowing Fred would never walk in at any given moment. Hermione had just joined along, still not used to be separated from her boys after months of being with them for every hour of the day. Hermione had no idea how she'd go without them once she returned to school but she was trying to put it out of her mind for a while.

Ginny would stay so often it was getting to the point that it was a surprise when she wasn't around. The past few weeks she had been in a constant rage, to which Hermione had whispered to Harry about just being at a different stage of dealing with the sorrow of losing so many people in the war. Harry tried to stay calm for the two of them, but his own dealings were getting to him.

"Could you stop watching that bloody muggle machine?" Ginny had snapped one night when Ron and Hermione were out. Harry paused the video to turn to stare at his girlfriend. "It's giving me a migraine!"

Harry continued to watch Ginny as she glared down at him. He had been nicely cuddled up on the couch, hidden under piles of rugs and watching a movie he hadn't watched since he was a child. Not that Mr and Mrs. Dursley had known he had watched it. He had spent the whole time hiding behind the couch, not making a sound, as he watched the cartoons on the television sing and fight.

"Sorry," he finally responded, turning the volume down to which he knew would be so low he probably would only just be able to hear it.

"What are you doing there anyway?" Harry pulled the rug up further to his chin, curling himself tighter into a ball. Ginny continued to stare and Harry wondered what had put her in the mood this time. Had she seen a picture of Fred in the Daily Prophet? Had she come across a present from Tonks? Had she found a text book that Lupin had used to teach them?

"Watching?" he responded carefully, unsure how to proceed. By this stage Hermione had usually swooped in and pulled Ginny to go out shopping or to eat a bowl of ice cream.

Ginny crossed the room to sit on the other couch. "Can we skip back to the beginning so I can watch?"

"But it's only got twenty minutes left," he responded before he even thought of the consequences.

"Fine, don't freaking skip it then I didn't want to watch your bloody show anyway!" she screamed, storming out of the room before Harry could say anything.

After a moments decision, Harry threw the rugs off him and followed her to their bedroom. She was throwing things into her backpack and Harry watched for a few moments before speaking up.

"It's okay to be angry at the world Gin, it's not fair what's happened but you don't have to take it out on us," he ran a hand through his hair, unsure what else to really say. He continued to watch her throw things into her bag before finally giving up and walking out the door.

"I've never felt this way before," Harry paused to listen to Ginny yell. "I'm so angry all the time and I just want to skip this part of our lives so that we can be happy again. Then I'm even more angry because why should we get to be happy if Fred, Tonks and Lupin can never be happy again? Then I'm angry because they left us and I'm angry because I'm not even out of school yet and I'm already babysitting this kid several times a week who is likely to become like a son to us and I'm having to deal with the fact one of my closest brothers is dead and I'm having to deal with the fact that I don't know how I'm supposed to deal with it all. It's just too much Harry; it's just too bloody much."

Harry didn't turn around and he was certain Ginny hadn't turned around either. He leaned into the door frame with so much weight that it was the only thing that kept him from falling to the ground.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I don't know how to deal with this either."

It was nearing on dawn and George continued to stare out at the river beneath him. When Fred and himself had finally been able to legally apparate, they would turn to a random page on an atlas and go there. He knew he was somewhere in Europe, he just couldn't be bothered remembering where exactly at that moment. All George could remember was Fred had said it had been one of his favourite places. The river beneath them that sped past so quickly if you were to throw something in it would be lost forever. The green trees on either side that were perfect for climbing. The small pebbles on the banks which were ideal to skip along the river. It had become one of Fred's favourite places.

George leaned over the barrier slightly; looking further down into the darkness below.

"Not fair," he mumbled into the wind.

It had been several months since Fred had been killed and George still wasn't coping. It seemed like everyone else had but him. Ron was able to look at Fred's things without shedding a tear. Ginny was always out with Harry and every time he saw her she was smiling at the love of her life. His parents were able to get out of bed every morning and no longer looked ready to break down at the sight of George. The rest of his brothers had gone back to doing whatever they did.

And he was alone.

George had never felt what being alone truly felt like. He had always had Fred within several metres proximity. He had never truly had to wonder what being alone felt like and he had always thought he'd never have to experience it.

Yet here he was, on a bridge in a country he didn't truly care about in the early hours of the morning all by himself.

"What if I jump in?" he spoke to whoever may be listening from above. "If I jump in, would you bring him back? Would you at least let him return as a ghost so the others can at least hear his voice? Would you please just bring him back?"

If anyone was listening, no one seemed interested enough to give George a sign.

"Please, my life for his. Please, just let him come back."

It was childish, he was well aware of the fact. Of course Fred couldn't come back. He was buried six feet under, he hadn't had a heart beat in months, he was long gone; of course he couldn't come back.

Yet George just felt the need to at least try.

"What if I find the resurrection stone? Will he come back then? I'm at a bridge Death, come on out and turn one of those pebbles into a new stone. Come on mate, just one, just to bring Fred back. That's all I need."

Still no sign of Death or God or anyone around.

George tried not to cry. "Can you just please bring him back?"

The sun was starting to rise, signalling that George should head back home soon so no one would notice his departure. He was still yet to return to the shop; he couldn't do it without Fred by his side. He had come here to try and bargain Fred's return.

"Come on, one last chance for someone to come out and help me here."

By the time the sun had already risen, breaking out a golden glow across the river; George had disapparated back to the Burrow still alone without his better half.

It was worse than when Sirius died. Harry had decided that long before he waved off his best friend and girlfriend as they left to return to the newly rebuilt Hogwarts. Yet, it didn't truly hit him how true it was until he was alone in his flat. Ron had gone out with George and Harry hadn't wanted to impose upon them.

He sat at the kitchen table, flipping the shattered glass in his hand to which had once belonged to his father. Harry couldn't help but remember he was almost the same age as his father was when Harry was born. He couldn't help but remember that he was almost the same age as his father was when Voldemort burst into their home.

The past few months had been terrible. Harry found himself hidden under blankets, barely eating and just wanting to sleep continuously for weeks on end. Everyone had been tied up in their own stages of despair to notice Harry. Which was fine to Harry, he understood fully. It was his fault for all this anyway, he could understand if people didn't want to pay too much attention to him. To be perfectly honest, he was surprised people still talked to him. Everyone seemed to focus on the Boy Who Lived aspect of him to realise he was also the reason so many were dead.

If only he had surrendered hours earlier. If only he had tried harder to find the horcruxes sooner. If only he had figured out how to destroy them earlier. If only if he had asked Dumbledore more questions. If only he managed to convince the Ministry of Voldemort's return sooner. If only.

Harry tightened the blanket that was wrapped around him tighter. He continued to stare at the defrosted frozen meal in front of him which Hermione had stocked the freezer with. He wasn't hungry but he knew he had to eat. He was supposed to be looking after Teddy tonight but Harry couldn't gain the energy he knew he needed to have for it. Usually Ginny had enough spirit in the two of them that Harry could forget how empty he felt inside. Now Ginny was gone and Harry had nothing left.

All he wanted to do was write to Sirius.

After all these years he still wanted to write to Sirius. Tell him how much it killed him seeing Lupin lying on the ground which still haunted him whenever he closed his eyes. Tell him how much his arms still ached as they did when he dug out Dobby's grave. Tell him how his heart felt like it was ripped from his ribcage whenever he heard a joke he knew Fred would adore. Tell him how true the thought he had at Christmas was.

He wished he was buried with his parents.

None of it would be his fault if Voldemort had succeeded the first try.

Harry wished he had the resurrection stone with him, to see his mum and cry to her. To show Teddy what his father looked like instead of having just photos that were spread out throughout the flat. To talk to his father about how he wasn't sure what he wanted to do next in his life and what would he suggest. To talk to Sirius about everything that was going on and to have a response instead of just an empty glass mirror.

Harry felt so empty.

Looking at the clock on the wall, he realised he didn't have too much longer until Teddy came over. He wondered if Teddy would be asleep the whole time like he had last time he stayed the night. Harry hoped he was.

He didn't have much energy to even pretend to be happy anymore.

It was the seventh month since the second Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione had found it strange returning to Hogwarts to find that it had been added to the text books and classes. She knew it was logical, it was such an important moment in Wizarding history it would be strange not to be included. Yet, hearing her name in newly published history books was something she knew she wouldn't get used to.

It was Christmas break and Hermione sat around the table full of Weasleys and ones that may as well be. Teddy was at the head of the table in his high chair, Harry and Ginny on either side trying to get him to eat his food. Ron was sitting next to her, chatting to Percy about the Ministry with his hand resting on her thigh. That was something she still wasn't fully used to. She loved Ron so much her heart would ache when she was away at Hogwarts. Being back she couldn't help but smile every time she was in his presence.

It was just when the conversations for everyone dulled down that a noise caused complete absolute silence throughout the whole house.

"Da-da, da-da, da-da."

Everyone's head shot towards the voice, Teddy clapping his hands with excitement as he mumbled the two syllables over and over again. It was done in such a way though that it sounded exactly like he was saying his first words.

"Oh crap!" Harry shouted, lifting Teddy into the air and spinning him around for a moment. "You said dadda, you said dad?"

"Da-da," Teddy responded smiling and giggling as Harry spun him around several more times.

"Harry, he shouldn't be able to speak for-"

"-Hermione," Ron squeezed Hermione's thigh, shooting her look that told her to just be quiet for once. She nodded, knowing that it wasn't worth ruining the moment with logic.

"Oh man Remus would be so proud," Harry didn't falter like he usually did whenever he said Remus' name. His smile was still on his face and Hermione could tell even from a slight distance it was true and full of joy.

Hermione knew there would still be days when their hearts ached for their lost ones and there would be days when they would wonder why they got to survive when everyone didn't. Hermione was certain they would still be nightmares that plagued them even during the day when they simply only blinked.

But right in that moment, with Harry spinning Teddy around and everyone busy applauding Teddy's first attempts at words; Hermione knew they had finally all reached their final stage.


End file.
